by Tom Bale
Two more minutes of silence, then a series of bumps and shuffles
and the murmur of conversation, coming closer. The first clear sentence
was priceless. It was spoken in a low voice, by a man with a South
African accent. McWhirter.
You’ve swept the ship for bugs?’
The reply was from another familiar voice: the bodyguard, Yuri.
'Of course. It was the first thing I did.’ He sounded resentful that
his competence had been called into question.
All right. Don’t bite my head off,’ McWhirter said. 'Now, I suggest
you make yourself scarce. We’ll shout if we need you.’
They heard the vibration on the deck as Yuri stomped away. They
also heard the single word he muttered in his native tongue when he
judged he was out of McWhirter’s earshot.
'Ppizzda.’
Joe, Cassie and the children headed slowly up Duke Street amongst
a tangled flow of pedestrians: shoppers, tourists, workers on their way
home, and an increasing number of revellers kicking off their weekend
celebrations. It took less than a minute for Cassie’s curiosity to get the
better of her.
'Was everything all right?’
Yes, thanks.’
'Friend or family?’
'Old friend. Just touching base.’
She waited, watching him closely until she grasped that she would
get nothing more.
Suddenly full of good cheer, as though moods were sweaters you
could change with the weather, she said: 'I’ve got good news and bad.’
'Go on.’
'The good news is that I’m feeling better. But the bad news. . .’
You want to go clothes shopping?’
'You got it.’ She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. And not
the snobby designer places, either. I want to look in some normal
shops.’
'Fine. But you know what we have to get past first?’
What?’
Joe indicated Jaden, then mouthed: 'The model shop.’ Cassie’s
shoulders sagged in mock horror. There was a branch of Modelzone
up ahead, on the corner of West Street.
'Oh, well. If I’m going to drag you both round Debenhams, I suppose
a few minutes staring at toy cars won’t hurt.’
'Cars!’ Jaden yelled. He yanked on Joe’s hand. 'I wanna look at
cars!’
A few minutes if we’re lucky, Joe thought.
But as it was, they were waylaid by something far worse.
It was a hen party. Advancing up West Street in a slow, clumsy swarm.
A dozen women, ranging in age from late teens to sixty or so. All
shapes and sizes. All dressed in skimpy black satin dresses that flattered
some of them considerably more than others. Already drunk,
but in good spirits, laughing and joking and calling out to anyone
foolish enough to point or stare in their direction.
Joe saw them as he crossed West Street at the pedestrian traffic
lights. Jaden was pulling ahead, desperate to see what treats Modelzone
had to offer. As they drew up in front of the shop window, Joe hoped
that by standing behind Cassie he could shield her from view. She
was leaning over the buggy, speaking to Sofia, and didn’t seem to have
noticed the hen party at all.
But they had noticed her.
The first indication came when the noise level dropped. Joe risked
a look round, thinking they’d crossed the road, but they were about
twenty feet away and closing in. Clustered together, nudging and
conversing in low voices. A couple of them were already eyeing
him up.
Leading the pack was a thickset woman in her twenties, with tattoos
on both arms and a pair of plastic devil horns propped in her hair.
She veered across the pavement and came to a halt in front of Joe,
who was still trying to keep Cassie out of sight.
'That’s Cassie Briggs, innit?’ she said, and Joe heard a gasp as Cassie
broke off whatever she was saying to Sofia.
The rest of the hen party fanned out around them. They peered
at the baby in her buggy, and at her mother standing frozen behind
it, gripping the handles with white knuckles.
'Oh my God! It is her.’
You still singing, then? Haven’t heard anything from you for years.’
Cassie made eye contact, smiling bravely. 'No. I don’t really—’
'She had a kid, didn’t she?’ One of them gestured towards Jaden,
who remained far more interested in a display of model sports cars.
'With the bloke from Hollyoaks. Dean somebody.’
'Oh, him? God, he shags everything that moves. . .’ The girl faltered
as she remembered who she was talking to, then dismissed her embarrassment
and giggled instead.
You’re probably right,’ Cassie said. Her voice sounded amiable
enough, but there were bright red spots on her cheeks: a blaze of fury
and shame.
'Did you see him in the jungle?’ another asked her.
Cassie shook her head.
'You can’t blame her,’ someone else said. 'She ain’t gonna watch
him on telly when he’s dumped her.’
'I thought she dumped him? That’s what it said in Heat.’
'I wouldn’t mind seeing my ex having to eat a load of maggots,’ an
older woman chipped in.
'He coped with your cooking, didn’t he?’
Wild laughter, which Cassie politely shared. Joe felt someone bump
against him: Jaden, sliding along the window, his nose pressed to the
glass.
The ringleader took a step closer, examining Joe’s face from inches
away. Her breath could have stripped paint.
Are you her new feller?’
As Joe shook his head, one of them said, 'Nah. She married some
old Russian bloke. Seriously loaded.’
'So who’s this, then?’ The woman leered at him. 'Got a name,
gorgeous?’
Joe said nothing. There was an edge of threat in the woman’s voice,
a hint that the mood could turn ugly at any moment. He wondered
how he would protect Cassie from a dozen drunken women, and
decided he couldn’t. He had to get her away from them.
As if they could read his mind, one of them declared: 'I bet he’s
her bodyguard.’
To squeals of delight, another said: 'Come on, show us your muscles.’
Joe smiled. Shook his head. He caught movement in his periphery
and saw Jaden slipping round the corner to examine the other window
display. Someone pinched him on the arm.
'Have a feel of this, girls.’
'Hey, we haven’t booked a stripper, have we, Shell?’
'What’re you doing tonight?’ The ringleader tried to slip her hand
around his waist, but Joe sidestepped her.
He said, 'Enjoy your evening, ladies.’ Then turned away, ushering
Cassie to move with him. She gave a start.
'I can’t see Jaden.’
'He’s gone round to the other window.’
One of the women blocked Cassie’s path. 'Come for a drink with
us if you want?’
'No, I can’t. I’m sorry.’ Cassie angled the buggy and found a way
through, calling Jaden’s name.
They turned into Cranbourne Street, a short pedestrian thoroughfare
that led up to Churchill Square. A handful of the women followed,
whi
le others were drifting away. One of them complained: 'S’pose
she’s too good for the likes of us.’
Jaden was gazing longingly at a big remote-control jeep, his hand
cupped over his mouth. At his mother’s approach he turned away, a
guilty look in his eyes. Cassie grabbed his arm and he tried to shake
her off, whining in protest.
'Stop it, Jaden. We’re going.’
An angry rumbling went through the hen party as the distance
between them and Joe’s group increased. Some of the comments were
loud enough to attract attention from other passers-by, who started
looking to see who they were talking about.
'She was a shit singer, anyway.’
'I ain’t surprised Dean left her. He can do a lot better.’
You see that awful boob job?’
'Yeah. No way those tits were real.’
Cassie hurried up the hill, head down, shoulders hunched, pushing
the buggy with one hand and practically dragging Jaden with the
other. Joe followed close behind, hoping she hadn’t heard their
comments but fearing that she had, and painfully aware there wasn’t
a thing he could do or say to make it better.
Eighteen
There were three voices to monitor, each one nice and distinct. It was
like one of those 'Three men in a pub’ jokes: a Ukrainian, an American
and a South African.
The engine noise increased once the yacht was in motion, but the
conversation remained perfectly audible. Not that there was much of
it, to begin with. Even the small talk was cagey and stilted. Friendly
but not warm. Respectful but not entirely sincere.
The American, Mike Travers, said: 'So what’s with the name? Terror’s
Reach. Sounds like some kind of horror movie.’
It was left to the South African, McWhirter, to provide a history of
the Reach, which he did with all the well-practised glibness of a professional
tour guide. It was clear the American had lost interest well
before McWhirter reached the part about the oyster smack that had
given the island its name.
'So it’s nothing to do with what you guys get up to? I’m disappointed.’
A throaty chuckle. 'Tell me about the real estate. Some of
these homes look like they belong in the Hollywood hills. That one
in the middle . . .’
'Dreamscape.’
Another chuckle. 'That’s what caused all the trouble? Well, it’s sure
fucking hard to miss. I can see why it got you so shook up.’
Nasenko: 'No one on the island was happy with it. The media chose
to put my name to the objections.’
You did fight the build?’
'That is all past now. We have moved on.’
'Glad to hear it.’
'So you have not been here before?’
'No. Never got invited till today.’
'But you have a long association with Mr Felton?’
'Bobby and I go back years, but we don’t spend time in each other’s
backyards. He’s a man who values his privacy. So do I.’
You still work with him, though?’
'Not so much nowadays. I’m semi-retired, as my wife keeps
reminding me – usually when I’m calling her from some conference
room or hotel suite on the other side of the world. But you know how
it is.’
'Not easy to let go.’
'Nope. There are exciting times right now. A lot of opportunities
out there. I guess that’s why we’re having this meeting, only I’m kinda
surprised you called me.’
'Why’s that?’
'Because you know all about my connection to your neighbour over
there. And I know that you and he don’t exactly get along. So why me?’
A few seconds of silence before Nasenko replied.
'Our proposal is not just to work with you,’ he said, 'but also with
Robert Felton.’
Nineteen
They took refuge in Churchill Square. It was nearly six o’clock, and
although the indoor mall didn’t shut for another hour the number of
shoppers was rapidly dwindling. It was a relief to be inside, away from
the heat and the noise and the crowds. Having just experienced a taste
of Brighton’s raucous night life, Joe was anxious to avoid any similar
encounters.
He followed dutifully as Cassie browsed for a while in Next. After
selecting a couple of dresses for Sofia, she called Jaden over to get
his opinion on a pair of shorts. His reply came out in a muffled voice,
and Cassie frowned.
'Open your mouth.’
Jaden tried to turn away, but she knelt down and held him still.
'What are you eating?’
Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. The remnants of a boiled sweet
sat on his tongue.
'Where did that come from?’
He shrugged looking as blankly insolent as any teenager.
'Tell me, Jaden. Where did you get it?’
A lady gave it to me.’
Cassie exchanged a glance with Joe, who was just as mystified.
'When was this?’ he said.
'When I was looking at the cars.’
Joe thought back. He didn’t recall seeing anyone approach the boy.
Had one of the hen party offered it to him, perhaps feeling guilty
about their behaviour?
'That’s very naughty,’ said Cassie.
'She gave it to me.’
'And you should have told me.’
Jaden broke away from his mother’s grasp. Cassie looked at Joe
again. He could see she was on the brink of tears.
'Go easy on him,’ he said.
Cassie sighed, then nodded wearily. After paying for Sofia’s clothes
they moved on to Debenhams, the flagship department store at the
rear of the mall. Took the lift to the lower ground floor and wandered
through the various sections of women’s fashion. Here and there Cassie
paused to examine an outfit or check a price tag, but Joe could tell
that her heart wasn’t really in it. There was a distant look in her eyes,
as though inside she was still cornered by the hen party, forced to
hear their taunts over and over again.
She stopped by a rail of evening dresses. Picked up a pink chiffon
baby-doll dress and stared at it for a long time.
'Shall we go?’ he said.
Cassie jerked back to the present. 'Bored?’
“I’m fine. I thought you might want to get to the hotel, relax for a
while.’
'Relax? All I ever do is relax. My whole life is one long holiday,
isn’t it?’
As she spoke she lifted the dress and held it against her body, almost
without realising what she was doing. Then she glanced down, pulled
the fabric tight over her chest and gave a bitter laugh.
'I used to love wearing things like this. Now I just feel self-conscious.’
Out of politeness, Joe averted his eyes. Cassie waited until her gaze
drew him back.
'I heard what they said. And it’s true. My boobs are ridiculous. I
hate them.’
Joe was trapped. He couldn’t tell if she was seeking flattery or the
truth. She’d had the operation at Easter, and while he was used to it
now, his first impression had been of a girl who’d slipped a couple of
apples into her mother’s bra.
Fee
ling shabby for ducking the question, he said, 'You have a great
figure. They’re just jealous.’
'If only they knew, eh?’ She put the dress back on the rail. Picked
up another and studied it. Seeking a distraction, Joe guessed, while
she opened her heart to him.
'It was Valentin’s idea. I did it for him, because I worried that I
wasn’t living up to what he expected from me.’ She rubbed her nose,
then sniffed. 'Still, the big question is why I ever married him in the
first place.’
'Cassie, it’s none of my business. I don’t want to intrude on — '
'You’re not intruding. You live with us, for God’s sake. You must
wonder about it.’
'I know you’re going through a bad patch, but I assume you were
happy at first?’
'I can’t really remember any more. I married him because I was
young and naive. He was charming, and rich, and he was in love with
me – or so I thought. Turned out he just wanted a pretty accessory,
someone who’d look good on his arm and wouldn’t answer him back
or have a mind of her own.’ Cassie laughed, opened her hands in a
question. 'How could it go wrong?’
He was about to say, 'It’s not all bad,’ and remind her that the relationship
had produced Sofia, when she turned sharply, then looked
back at him.
'Where’s Jaden?’
This time there was no false alarm, no model cars to absorb the boy’s
attention. He was gone.
Joe’s first duty was to keep Cassie from panicking. 'Don’t worry,’ he
said. 'You just told him off. He’s probably hidden somewhere, to give
you a scare.’
'To punish me?’ Cassie said, stunned by the thought.
'He won’t see it like that.’ Joe pointed towards the aisle that led
deeper into the store. You look along there. I’ll check the other way.’
He turned and ran. His priority was to reach the exit and the escalators
in the centre of the shop. Then he could work his way back,
searching each section more thoroughly.
He tried to calculate how long it was since he’d last registered
Jaden’s presence. Twenty seconds. Thirty, maybe. The boy wouldn’t
get far in that time.
Doesn’t matter, he thought. It’s not your job to get sidetracked,
listening to Cassie’s woes about her marriage.
Your job is to watch them, and you failed.
And then a sound drew his attention. A brief, familiar squeal of
pain. Coming from the large open exit to the mall.